Stages of Confliction
by LittleMissAfflicted
Summary: Those muddled feelings are sure to define themselves in time, and the end result may surprise them both. Sebastian/Ciel. Rated M for future chapters.
1. Awareness

**Disclaimer:** Yana Toboso owns Sebastian, Ciel, and my eternal gratitude.

**AN:** It's going to be multi-chaptered, so wish me luck, if you would =) The title has everything to do with the Kübler-Ross model that depicts the five stages of grief, though that won't be the feeling I'm focusing on... *wink*

**Text**= Sebastian  
Text= Ciel  
_Text_= Dual thought

* * *

**When I hold him close, it is usually in passing.**

**It is, more often than not, to protect him. **

**This slight, beautiful frame.**  
**This delicate, weak husk of a body.**  
**This forlorn shell, with a core of blinding, mouthwatering white.**

* * *

When he holds me closely, I think nothing of it.

He has to, should he someday wish to claim his reward.

That grip, overwhelming and possessive.  
That expression, blank and unreadable.  
That lie he lives, a refuge that I sometimes find myself clinging to.

* * *

**When I cradle him in my arms, I am touching him.**

**This is something he allows very, very strictly.**  
**But here, in this moment of exception, it is different. **

**I can hear his fluttering pulse, wholly mortal, imperfect in rhythm. **  
**I can see his pride being tossed aside, in favor of the shelter I am offering.**  
**I can feel his grip, demanding and willful and lost.**

**I want to-**

* * *

When he has me in this cradled embrace, I do not overlook that he is touching me.

I don't want him to touch me. It burns.  
I want him to touch me. It soothes.

I can smell his scent, vivid, warm, and much too human.  
I can see only black, as I hide beneath a curtain of soft, thick, ebony hair.  
I can feel his voice hum through his chest as he speaks, dark silk rubbing against my skull as I listen.

I wish, maybe, that he would-

* * *

**Hold him-**

* * *

Hold me-

* * *

_Closer. _

* * *

**I do so.**

* * *

He reins me in further.

* * *

**When we are close, this close, my thoughts begin to oppose one another. **

**He is fragile. I want to break him until there is nothing left.**  
**He is fragile. I want to heal his bleeding heart. **

**I want to devour him, this temptation, whose breath stains my neck.**  
**I want to treasure him, this little gem; the only one I've ever found in my long existence. **

**I want to see those mismatched eyes full of horror and pain.**  
**I want to see them aglow with delight, shining, a sapphire and amethyst engraved into a porcelain face. **

**I am sure-**

* * *

When I am in this proximity to him, I forget everything.

He is a demon. A creature sired by the flames of hell.  
He is my savior. A creature who snatched me away from the clutches of death, when angels were no where in sight.

I have the urge to push him away, to tell him to burn in the world of sin he emerged from.  
I have the urge to never let go, and will his strength to stay beside me.

I want to see him lose, and watch that smirk falter with defeat.  
I want him to win, always, and let his blood-red eyes gleam with his victory.

I don't think-

* * *

**He does not-**

* * *

That he could ever-

* * *

___Understand._

* * *

"Sebastian."

**When he says my name, the chain that tethers us rattles. Curls tightly around us.**

**I want to sever it with the hunger that tenses in the curve of my talons.**  
**I want it to bind tight, and grant sweet suffocation.**

**This feeling he gives me is disgusting. I cannot name it.**  
**It is pleasant. I want to bask in it.**

**Somehow, I feel-**

* * *

**"Young Master."**

When he replies, I hear the obligation in his voice.

I like the tone; recognition of what he is and to whom he belongs.  
I despise it, wondering why it cannot be genuine, bear no grudge.

What I feel for him has no definition. It hurts when I contemplate it.  
It fills me with warmth. I want to capture it.

Yet none of it feels-

* * *

**That this is not-**

* * *

As though it is-

* * *

_Enough._

* * *

**AN:** Hope you enjoyed so far ;)


	2. The Earl's Denial

**Disclaimer: **Please see chapter one, because typing it over and over tires me =)

**AN:** For each stage, there will be a chapter for Ciel's point of view, and one for Sebastian's. A total of eleven chapters. I hope you will look forward to it!

* * *

There's a new ache eating away at my heart.

But it doesn't hurt.

Because it isn't real.

Can't be.

* * *

"Sebastian!"

My body twists, squirming, protesting against the calloused hands that are pressing my naked flesh against the unforgiving chill of a bed of stone.

The people above me are mere shadows, faces obscured by long hoods, bodies hidden by cloth that brushes against my struggling. The material of their cloaks is soft, but each time it comes close, it feels as though I'm being pricked.

"Sebastian!"

They hiss, voices discernable, inhuman, and one hand above me holds a shining silver dagger that gleams with the promise of my sacrifice. They're going to kill me.

These monsters- because the human shapes they hold are irrelevant- are going to end my life, and all I can do is continue this futile resistance, chanting that name all the while.

His name. Because he's supposed to come and save me. The only one who can keep me alive, if only for the sake of bringing about my death with his own hands.

"Sebastian!"

My throat is raw. So raw. But I never stop screaming. Won't stop calling to him. There is a pounding against my temple as my voice fills the room, drowning out the noises the fiends above me are making. My vision is blurred with hot tears.

Where is he?

"Sebastian!"

Why won't he come for me?

"Sebastian!"

The hand that holds the dagger takes its aim, plunges, and it is over in a mere moment.

There is a flame burning into my center, cutting deep into my flesh, past skin, muscle, and organ alike. A shriek of sheer agony erupts from my heaving lungs. The hissing above me is satisfied, excited, at the sight of the blood that pours from the wound. Blazing trails of sanguine staining everything.

I'm dying.

The shadows surrounding me are melding together. The smell of the laceration, raw and pungent, fills my nostrils as I gasp loudly. Still screaming. Crying. For him.

_Save me._

"SEBASTIAN!"

* * *

"Young Master!"

My eyes snap open, and it has disappeared.

The pain. The monsters. The darkness. My past. Everything.

I realize that I'm buried headfirst into the crook of someone's neck. That my body is shaking uncontrollably. That my hands are pressing into the curve of someone's back. That I'm still sobbing his name.

"Se-Sebas… tian…"

"Shhh. It was a dream, Young Master. Or a nightmare, rather."

It's his voice. That irresistible timbre, crawling along my skin, a rich and decadent sound.

I pull myself away to look into his face. The familiar blood red of his irises appraises me, brows furrowed with perplexity. His hands are on my back, and damn him for touching me, when I've told him not to without permission; not ever! Damn him for disobeying! Damn him for laying hands on me, and not bothering to hold tightly enough!

But, oh.

He's here.

Right in front of me.

Real and alive, and it's enough to make send me into a fit of hysteria.

"Sebastian!"

I'm thrown against him again, his name the only thing I can bring myself to utter.

"Young Master. Hush now." His hands are rubbing my back. "I can only imagine what images plagued your sleep, but it is over. You are awake, and perfectly safe."

But I can't stop crying. I shiver from the fear that lingers in me, and the anger that begins to grow alongside it.

He isn't supposed to leave my side.** Ever**.  
He's suppose to come to me. **Always**.

Because that is what our contract entails.  
Because that is what I demand of him.  
Because-

I can't finish the thought. There's an ache in my heart, all of the sudden.

I detach myself from his body, and look him in the eyes. Stare long and hard. He seems to be reading me. Attempting to predict what I might do next. I wipe at the tears that have finally stopped falling.

"Sebastian. What do you do if I call for you?"

My voice is a bit hoarse, but the tone has sunken into the usual coldness I use when addressing him.

"Why come, of course, Young Master."

"And if I tell you to stay by my side?"

A smirk is twitching on his lips. "Then by your side I shall remain, until the day you cease to exist."

The answers he gives are the very same ones that I expect. Because Sebastian can do only what I command him to. Only that, and nothing more, because I have never given him the option. I've known that from the moment we were both branded by the pentacle of this twisted covenant.

This is how our fates have been sealed, I tell myself.  
It cannot change. It won't ever change. Never.

"I'm tired. I want to go back to sleep."

Sebastian's reaction is immediate. He nestles me against a sanctum of pillows, dragging the covers over my body and tucking me into a cocoon of fabric. He does not say a word. Doesn't ask questions, because he knows I won't answer.

My eyes are swollen, head hurts, and limbs feel far too heavy to move. I press a damp cheek against the coolness of a pillow, and black creeps along the edges of my vision. The orange glow of the lit candles Sebastian is holding in one hand seems to be fading away. I hear the creak of a doorknob, and know that he is about to leave me again.

But I won't allow it.

"Stay until I fall asleep. It's an order."

I don't need him to. But I want him to. I don't know why.  
The pain from before becomes more pronounced. My heart squeezes, thumping an answer that I don't understand.

"Yes, Young Master." He doesn't reply with any teasing or sarcasm, and it surprises my hazy mind.

Knowing that my slumber will be guarded by this demon, Sebastian, fills me with an unexpected tranquility. I know he is standing statue-still by the door, a shadow against firelight whose ruby gaze will not falter until sleep is within reach. The distance between us, a gap of a mere few feet, appears too large to me now.

I quickly bury that notion.

Why in the name of the Queen would I find that he is too far away?

He isn't!  
In fact, he isn't far enough!

My eyelids grow heavy as I wage this mental duel with myself, and I know I am very close to being enveloped by unconsciousness once more. Sebastian speaks suddenly, lulling me:

"Pleasant dreams, Young Master," he says with an unusual softness in his voice.

He has never wished that upon me before...

I want to tell him that I don't need him to express such childish phrases to me, but I don't.  
I don't, because my heart feels a little more warm, my pulse now a thrilled and steady thrum.

Still. It isn't because of him, I'm sure.

It never has been before.

* * *

When I awaken, much earlier than anticipated, Sebastian is gone.

The ache in my chest returns.

But it doesn't hurt.

Because it isn't real.

Because... I dont...

I can't.

* * *

**AN:** This got erased THREE TIMES while in the process of being finished, so it took even longer than I'd hoped. And now I'm a bit dissatisfied with it, too...

I happen to love it when Ciel loses his composure and clings to Sebastian for dear life (especially in the manga). It's adorable, if not a little heart-wrenching. Too bad he lets go. Cling to him forever, Ciel! I would. XD

Hope you enjoyed ;)


	3. A Demon's Denial

**Disclaimer:** Refer to chapter one please

**AN:** Just thought I should mention that not every chapter will be different view points of the _same _occurrence. The first half of this was rather fun to write =)

* * *

Something about him fills me with uncertainty.  
Challenges the core of what I am.  
But no…  
It must be my hunger, driving me mad.  
Nothing more.

* * *

"Goodnight, Sebastian!"  
First is Finny, much too lively at this late hour.

" G'Night, Sebastian!"  
Second comes Bard, American drawl slurred by a yawn.

"Sleep well, Sebastian!"  
Finally, an enthusiastic chirp from Maylene.

Tanaka is already fast asleep in his quarters.

I bid them a good night in turn. They'd be wise to rest. There is quite a bit to do tomorrow, since the destruction they caused today has left a mass of setbacks in my otherwise flawless planning. That being said, I shall have no mercy when rousing them awake come sunrise. It's always amusing to see the looks of disappointment when they realize it is time to get to work, and leave their foolish dreams behind.

Although I _can_ sleep, I seldom do so. Not that a little nap isn't enjoyable every now and then, but honestly, living with this lot, when would I ever find the time for even that? Then there's the Young Master, with a lavish lifestyle that demands all the precision and cunning I can spare. In such an environment, sleep and I are rarely acquainted.

So much to do, so much, but any who says that only Gods can yield miracles is simply a person with no knowledge of my existence. Of course, the price for such feats is steep, but not unfair in my own opinion. In fact I daresay that a demon is the one cheated in the dealings of a covenant, for I've toiled away for three years, and my banquet eludes me still.

It's fine though. He is such an amusing trifle of a child, with that cherubic face that masks a heavy dose of unbridled defiance. Intelligence. Maybe even a little ruthlessness.

I watch the flames of the candles I am carrying in hand weave back and forth with each step I take down a desolate hall within a now quiet Phantomhive manor, listing all the things I will have to prepare for tomorrow. The Young Master's _favorite_ visitor will be coming for him, and there is no better show than the one Lady Elizabeth gives when swinging him around and suffocating him with her adoration. Truly, the girl is no better than a golden Labrador dressed in fine lace…

Let's see then…

Set silverware (if only to ensure it's survival, the rate which, when Maylene is involved, plummets to zero)…

Marinate the beef roast for dinner early (to ensure an incomparable flavor, and that Bard does not turn it to a charred massacre)…

Cut fresh flowers (those plain, colorless white roses that the Young Master is so fond of, because if I instruct Finny to do so, they will easily become white petals)…

Ah, and right now?

Investigate the animalistic cry that just came from the Young Master's bedroom.

* * *

I burst through the door and let the candle light bathe over the room.

There's no one here but the Young Master himself. But he is wailing, and I feel a heat on the center of my left hand, where the pentacle of our bond is etched in black.

It is my name he's calling, over and over, a chant intertwined with the most helpless whimpers I have ever heard him muster.

I quickly set the candles down on his night stand. What a terror he must be concocting in that head of his, to be thrashing about in such a manner! So unlike his usual self!

I am at his side at once, of course, because to deny his call would be to betray our contract. My fitful Young Master is a disheveled mess. Clutched sheets in quivering fists, nightshirt clinging to moon-pale skin beaded by a cold sweat, and an expression of pain so frightful that it could almost be beautiful.

I loom over him, grasping his shoulders in an attempt to wake him, and he grabs me suddenly.

Those wiry arms of his are laced around my back in a vice-grip. Clasping on for dear life, one would think. He burrows his face against my neck, his cries incessant and his body shivering. Still dreaming.

But the situation paints such a lovely picture.

He scent is appealing- fresh like the floral notes of the soap he prefers, honeyed with his nubile youth, and laced with the fear that fuels his restlessness. His lips continue to plea to my name again and again, and his body is completely at my mercy in this embrace.

It is torture, so very unfair, to have such an inviting meal writhing against me. But there is time yet. He is a fruit unfit to be picked, and I am no Eve. If I am going to feast on a forbidden fruit, I will do so at my own leisure, when it is fully ripe.

"Young Master!"

I say it only once, shaking him gently and feeling him stir.

"Se…Sebas…tian."

His voice is weak from all that sobbing.

"Shhh. It was a dream, Young Master. Or a nightmare, rather."

I try to bring him into reality, holding him as his labored pants huff against my skin. I am not expecting it when he pulls away and sits up, looking at me.

To see him in such a state should bring me enjoyment. But it does not.

Instead, it is tugging at something inside of me.  
There is the acute feeling of something shattering, though I know that this is not possible.  
There isn't even any pain.  
Because it isn't real.

A pair of eyes are watching my own, both the ethereal glow of the seal on the right, and the natural cerulean of his iris on the left shining with tears. They bead his lengthy lashes and shimmer in the candlelight, and for a moment, I remember this same look of despair, only it is a memory of three years prior.

"Sebastian!"

Young Master surprises me again with a tremble of his lower lip that erupts into my name. He throws himself against me, confusing me. Is he not awake? Shouldn't his pride keep him from displaying this blatant vulnerability?

While trying to make sense of it I find that I've begun to pet his back absentmindedly. Comforting him. When have I ever…?

"Young Master. Hush now. I can only imagine what images plagued your sleep, but it is over. You are awake, and perfectly safe."

You are with me. I have you. You are mine.

All things that are never spoken, but trickle into my thoughts.

I dismiss all of it- clearly, I am just being possessive of my meal.

That must be it.

I feel the body in my arms break free of my hold to look at me again. He is staring. I feel the need to hide something, thought I cannot imagine what. The boy's never been able to read me, so what have I to hide?

"Sebastian. What do you do if I call for you?"

Ah, there it is. That low, uncaring tone of the Earl Phantomhive. A little weighed from the crying, but unmistakable.

I answer him. "Why come, of course, Young Master."

"And if I tell you to stay by my side?"

I want to smile but restrain myself. I see. So he's asking for reassurance in the only way he knows how.

"Then by your side I shall remain, until the day you cease to exist."

I'll protect you, Young Master, delicate little flower, and feast of that rare nectar you hold when you come into bloom. Leave you utterly wilted the second my end of our bargian is complete.

"I'm tired," he declares, "I want to go back to sleep."

I grant him the reprieve he's wished for, moving forward to settle him against his bed. I fix him among the pillows as though he is a doll, shifting him just a bit here and there until the arrangement looks both comfortable and esthetically pleasing. All that remains is to tuck him in, which I do, tossing covers over his form.

Wordlessly, I turn to retrieve the candles that I placed on his nightstand and reach for the door. There is still far too much to organize, and this has taken up a sizable amount of time.

The Young Master's voice cuts through the silence. "Stay until I fall asleep. It's an order."

Oh? Do you feel safe if I am with you, Young Master? Even though I also pose the biggest threat? But that is fine. It's fine if it's only me that you want…

"Yes, Young Master."

I can see him as I stand at my post, watching sleep come for him once more. He looks so much at peace; a little fallen angel curled in a nest.

Before I can contemplate it, words are leaving my mouth:

"Pleasant dreams, Young Master."

And I find it very strange that I mean them.

What nonsense.

Perhaps I have come to spoil him unintentionally, but I suppose it cannot be helped. An animal pampered to the fullest also tastes the best, after all.

Yet, when I take a last glance at him, now certain that he is asleep, I do not see _food_.

I see a boy. A lonely soul and heart marred with wounds that might never heal. A lost human who seeks of me what he dares not seek from anyone else, because he's already been betrayed by his fellow man. Experienced cruelty, probably before he even knew the word.

I should like to reassure him again. Would rather enjoy it, if he latched onto me as he did more often…

My, my.

Get a firm grip on reality, Sebastian, and quickly. One might start to think you're becoming attached…

* * *

That Master of mine.  
He makes me wonder.  
Has me questioning everything I know about my devilish desires…  
But I _am_ a little hungry. Yes. That must be it… I'm hungry…  
Nothing more.

* * *

**AN: **Really, after re-reading the first volume of Kuroshitsuji, I realized that Sebastian sounds like a frustrated house wife ^_^ Chin up, Sebby. At least you have a young, rich husband to keep you in line =P

Hope you enjoyed ;)


	4. The Earl's Anger

Decided to update this in the hopes of actually finishing it someday lol. My motivation is fickle and fleeting. Sorry about that…

Once upon a time, I locked my heart away. When you realized there was no key, You decided to pry it open. Now look at what you've done. You broke it. It's gone. All that remains is you… And I hate it.

The next morning, I am awake on my own.

I seldom wake up like this, and I realize that it feels strange. It's always "Young Master, it is morning." Always him, pulling the curtains apart so that the sunlight bathes my face, the brightness forcing me out of my slumber. Always the scent of tea, and the feel of his hands as he dresses me swiftly, and his deep voice filling my head as he explains the day's schedule.

Always.

But not now.

The sun has barely risen, as I can see no more than a dim glimmer peeking through the windows. There is no rich, herbal smell. There is no teasing voice, no capable hands… no Sebastian. No one.

I sit up, clutching my pillow (the one I will never admit to being unable to sleep without) and I feel overcome by a severe amount of resentment. Everything rushes back to me, all of last night, and I grit my teeth. I was weak in front of him. I was helpless. I was not a watchdog, but a lost pup seeking reassurance.

I begin punching the pillow and watching it yield to every blow. It molds to the shape of my fist again and again without protest. How could I be so stupid? How could I let him see that? How could I dishonor the strength of the Phantomhive name with such a pathetic display?

The pillow never answers. It merely sits, hunched in on itself. A misshapen creature with a crease for a frown and a strangely dejected appearance. I pull it back to my chest, smoothing it out and pressing my cheek to it as if in apology. Inanimate as it is, it isn't deserving of my little fit of rage. What is, is made of a guise of false human flesh, blood-luster eyes, and a smirk that makes a growl bubble in my throat.

I lay back, realizing that there is still a decent amount of time before I am supposed to be woken up. The soft ticking of the clock on my nightstand becomes pronounced, and I wish I could smash the obnoxious little thing and freeze time by doing so.

I don't want him to come. I don't want him to look at me. He'll be laughing at me on the inside. He'll be sweeping the length of me from head to toe with that preying gaze, and I'm sure that it will glow with a newfound superiority. It won't matter that I can tell him to do as I please. I have him in a cage wrought from the will of my commands, but even that is of no use. What good is a cage if the captive can slip through the bars?

My breathing is too fast. My chest feels too tight. I hug the pillow closely and bury my face against it. Sebastian is supposed to keep me safe from everything, but then… who will keep me safe from him…?

I roll over onto my stomach, grasping the sheets beneath my palms. My pillow has suffered enough, I think, and I'm sure I'd wind up breaking it if I have at it again. As my grip on the bedspread grows stronger, so does the strange churning feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I don't know who I'd prefer to throttle: him, or myself. As I wait for morning to come, I think for a brief second that both would be much more satisfying.

The light begins to peek through the curtains, lining their edges, setting them aglow as though some miraculous promise waits behind them. I get up and part them, and although it is no miracle, it is something of a spectacle: the sunrise. The colors of dawn paint themselves across the sky while the sun blazes beyond the horizon. Horizon… what a concept. A horizon is nothing more than a taunt. It can't be reached no matter how far you travel, because the horizon is always in front of you, waiting for you, never with you.

Never.

The door creaks open and I flinch slightly but remain still. I know who stands behind me.

"You're awake quite early, Young Master. Are you feeling well?"

"Fine."

"Are… you certain?"

And I know why he asks, and damn it, he can go right back to hell if he thinks that something like that could break me!

"I'm fine," I grit. "Breakfast."

"A little tea and milk with honey. I have an assortment of pastries you can choose from, warm with a little butter, Young Master."

"I want a scone." Is all I mutter, sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the tiny but intricate pattern of the teacup Sebastian gives me. The tea and milk is good, as expected; it's warm and smooth with that touch of sweetness from the honey. I nibble the scone next, but delicious as it is, I find my appetite to be absent and set it down after having a half.

"Lady Elizabeth was supposed to be visiting today, sir, but if you aren't of sorts then perhaps it'd be better to-"

"I believe you asked me if I was earlier. Furthermore, I believe I said I was fine, did I not?"

"You did. My apologies, Young Master." He bows, and at the moment I can't stand him. I can't stand what I see in his sanguine eyes as he stands erect, searching my gaze for… well, hell if I know what. What does he think he'll find, besides the proof that I own him?

He leaves for mere seconds before returning with my clothing. An ensemble of navy blue, no doubt to please Lizzy's preference for clothes that 'bring out my eyes'. What folly…

He pulls my nightshirt over my head and begins and for the first time I feel self-conscious. I realize that he's looking at me. I feel ridiculously exposed but remain composed as I step into my trousers. But when he touches my shoulder his hand lingers and I forget how to breathe.

"Young Master." His hand, a wisp of white, rests beneath my chin gently.

"Your pulse is wild," he says in a whisper, and I can't tell, I simply can't…

Is it hunger making his eyes look so vivid?

Or something else? Something else like… _what_?

"Ridiculous," I hiss at him defensively. "How on earth would you-"

"I can hear it. Faintly; the ears of a human hardly allow me to employ the full extent of my natural senses, but it is there. Also…" his explanation catches me off guard, my thoughts geared towards this unexpected revelation of his true anatomy, but he continues, "I can feel it."

The pristine white cloaking his fingers creeps lower. It lingers over my left breast, palm facing the skin but never touching against it. The irony of it, this distant closeness, makes my hair stand on end and my skin prickle.

Come closer.

Stay away.

Fill the distance.

_Why can I not decide_?

"Even without contact, I can feel it better than you yourself can," he says, and then his hand is there. Over the heart I shouldn't have, a touch that is impossibly human and warm. A lie.

_Don't touch me._

"I can feel the rhythm perfectly. Even the most miniscule exertion reaches my fingers in a way that your body cannot fathom. The swell of the blood within your veins as well."

A lie. A lie that knows more about my wretched existence than I ever will.

Invasive. Inhuman. Irresistible.

And then the memory, feral- gripping, threatening, tearing my flesh asunder like ribbons-

_Don't touch me!_

My reaction is instant: the sound of flesh colliding, the silken skin of his cheek glowing an vivid, blistering red.

I've slapped him as hard as I can manage.

The look on Sebastian's face is questioning. His eyes are seething, and I have to do what I've trained myself to. I have to replace the initial fear with indifference and anger. But am I angry at him… or myself?

"You have no reason to touch me in such a manner!" My voice is weaker than it should be, pathetically breathless like the plea of a cornered animal.

"Forgive me, Young Master. I merely meant to demonstrate how I was capable of knowing the pace of your heartbeat, nothing more."

I scoff. "Refrain from demonstrations that I do not ask for. Have I made myself clear?"

He smiles.

Broken. Furious. Lovely.

"As clear as a midday sky, my Lord."

"Then finish your task, and make certain," I emphasize the words crudely, "not to disobey me. Unless you wish to nullify our little deal."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Young Master."

"I did not think you would."

He remains silent. My shirt is slipped onto my body, the collar straightened and buttons fastened with a display of dexterity that is nearly mesmerizing. Sebastian slips my arms into my peacoat, the few seconds it takes for my hands to emerge giving me the sensation of being trapped- embalmed in a cocoon of demonic make. Would it matter? I've already done that to myself. I'm already in his jaws, between his talons, lying in wait for the moment they snap. And then…

Then I'll be through.

Will he be happy?

The soft rush of fabric as he ties it around my collar sounds abrasive to my ears. I watch it form the bow- over and under, around, through.

So intricately twisted, and yet if I were to tug upon a single strand-

My fingers obey my thoughts absentmindedly and pull one end of the ribbon.

It would simply fall apart.

"Young Master?"

"It was uneven. Tie it again."

It is tighter this time. The bow doesn't feel like an ornament around my neck, but rather like a collar. A warning… or perhaps a promise. But then Sebastian startles me.

"There." He tugs the bow forward gently and its hold loosens. I release a breath and look into his eyes. What? What does he want from me now? I offered him everything, and he accepted. I have nothing left to give.

He claimed it all as I lay dying, a hand that pulled me from misery and then plunged me into despair.

So then why is he looking at me as though there's anything left?

All that remains… is him.

Sebastian is everything I have, and everything I wish to rid myself of.

Everything that I wish to cling to.

Salvation with damnation blazing at its core.

All I have is this creature, whose sinful voice puts me to sleep. Whose hands suffocate me sweetly the closer he comes, his touches a nightmare so fearsome that all of the others fade away and make him glow like the solace that I know he isn't. That I wish he was. Because that's it.

That's all.

When I scream, cry, and search for the exit to the wasteland of my memory, it is crimson and ink that will guide me.

Hold me.

Taint me.

Infuriate me.

Lie.

Give me everything, because one day, you'll have me…

And that's the day I'll be gone.

I ignore the strange flutter of my heart- painfully tight- as he presses each of my feet into a shoe.

"Is there anything else that you need, Young Master?"

Yes.

Everything.

But everything has become you.

I despise everything.

_I hate you._

"Nothing."

He turns to leave, hands teasing against the doorway as he assures me, "I will announce Lady Elizabeth's arrival accordingly. Please make sure to look over the set of proposals that arrived for you yesterday. They are on the desk in the study, Young Master."

"Fine."

Give it back.

Fix me.

When I look at you, the heart that I no longer have comes back to life.

Endless agony.

Beating, beating, _beating_…

**_Why is it that I never want it to end?_**


End file.
